Letters from Dr Malfeasant
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: Draco has a new life goal and no one and nothing shall hinder him in his valiant pursuit to join the Eaters of Death. Except possibly that pesky Captain Potter. (Fic heavily inspired by Dr Horrible's Sing-along Blog.) Epistolary fic. Cracky. Read with no expectations.


**Day 167**

Dear Pansy,

I hope you are well. And by "well" I mean I hope that you have come to your senses and that the miscreant you last shacked up with has died a horrible, grisly death. If he has, rest assured I had no part in it, having sworn upon the bones of my dead father that I would not hex him. Yes, the bones are still sitting here on my desk, and no, I shall not give them a proper burial. The bastard never listened to me whilst he was alive, so he shall listen to me now, by damn. But I digress.

My bid to join the Eaters of Death (please stop making jokes about the name, I know it is ridiculous) continues apace. My plan to break into the Department of Mysteries was successful although my theft of the Very Last Time Turner turned out to be a Ministry-Perpetuated Hoax. The bloody thing was actually a Portkey that took me to the Minister for Magic's office. I barely escaped with my life.

_He_ was there, waiting. No, not the Minister. Harry Potter. _Captain_ Potter. (And might I add that it is just as ridiculous that the Ministry has adopted Muggle titles? For the purpose of irony, I have done the same.)

Well. May I just say that my bite-activated fake tooth Portkey was a brilliant idea? Because it was. Even though I swallowed it. Potter's hands were reaching for me even as I slipped from his grasp. I am sure you can almost hear my triumphant laughter. I almost pity him. Likely he couldn't wait to manhandle me.

Captain Potter. He isn't so hot.

Anyway, I will send you some jewels from my next successful heist. Much love!

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant - You see what I did there? IRONY.)

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**Day 173**

Pansy.

Fuck.

More later.

Draco. (D M)

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**Day 174**

Pansy,

Sorry to frighten you with my last missive. I am fine. Other than a dislocated shoulder, bruised hip, mild concussion, a broken toe, and several lacerations. FINE.

Yes, I had another run-in with Captain Potter. He has learned to fight dirty. I think he was toying with me by abusing my person rather than simply apprehending me like any normal authority figure. Why does he have to be so fit _stupid_?

It was odd, but his heart barely seemed to be in it this time. He seemed distracted. He even told me he had to leave midway through our duel. He had to _leave_. I hate him.

I hope he is all right.

Blaise is here now. I will write more later. Sorry to hear about your beau's accident. (Sorry it wasn't fatal.)

Love,

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant)

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**Day 180**

Pansy,

I know it has been a few days. I apologize for ignoring your owls. I did not mean to worry you.

Captain Potter. Captain Idiot has a girlfriend. A girl who is more than a friend. You probably already know, if you are still receiving the _Prophet_ in that hellhole wherein you now reside. Her freckly, terrible face and wretched ginger hair has been plastered all over the news rags, each time she is seen in the company of the heroic prat.

He has barely paid me any attention recently. I robbed a Mudblood family of all their worldly possessions and left a blazing Murky Mark on their roof. He did not even show.

I TORMENTED MUDBLOODS, PANSY, AND HE DID NOT SHOW UP.

Sorry, I know what you are muttering right now and you are correct. I am losing sight of my goal. I need to move on and focus on my success. I am certain the Eaters of Death are suitably impressed with my actions. Even if Potter is not.

Kiss kiss. Love to you and multiple stab-wounds to your co-habitating leech.

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant)

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**Day 194**

I hate her. I shall have my revenge.

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**Day 194 1/2**

Why, Pansy, why? I give him all of my consideration. I plot evil deeds. I carry out heinous crimes, I work my fingers to the bone to make sure he looks good and gets to play hero, and still he pays me no mind! I do not know what else to do! I even stole a crup puppy from a small child in Diagon Alley. (His name is Mr Wiggles. He says hello.) He likes to have his tummy rubbed and has the cutest little black nose and

Where was I? Oh yes. Ever since that woman returned to Potter's life, it is as if I do not even exist. My life has no purpose. I might as well move to Wales and become a petty local tradesman like that person you

I think I might be sick.

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**Day 195**

Pansy,

Please disregard yesterday's message. I might have been inebriated.

Love,

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant)

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**Day 200**

Pansy darling,

All is well. I am perfectly fine. I even ran into You-Know-Who at the patisserie yesterday (no, not that You-Know-Who, the other one. _Captain_ _Potter_) and we had a normal, civil conversation about pastries. It went something like this:

Me: Potter.

Potter: Malfoy.

Me: Potter.

Potter: You said that already. What brings you out on such a wet, cold day?

Me: The usual. Orphans to save. Widows to comfort. Also, I am hungry.

Potter: You, comforting widows and saving children? I rather thought the opposite, judging by your actions of late. What pastries do you fancy?

Me: I don't know what you mean. I am a philanthropist. Donating time, energy, and considerable Galleons to charity. The chocolate custard croissants are divine.

Potter: Yes, I read the papers, but I also know who you are. Your little alter-ego. Don't think your silly attempt at wearing a mask is fooling anyone. You might consider a _hood _next time. Just a suggestion. I haven't tried the croissants. I normally go with the kiwi tarts.

Me: A hood would mess up my hair. Although I have no idea to what you are referring. Kiwi makes me break out in a rash. I will have a half-dozen chocolate croissants, please. And four of those heart-shaped dog biscuits.

Potter: You have a dog?

Me: I do not have a dog. Perhaps I enjoy the flavour. Also, they are good for the teeth. Speaking of dogs, how is your little insignificant other?

Potter: Do you mean Ginny? Don't be rude, Malfoy. She's fine.

Me: She's fine _for now_. (I might have cackled evilly.)

Potter: What is that supposed to mean?

Me: Nothing. I shall be going now. You have wasted enough of my valuable time.

Potter: If you say so. See you, Malfoy.

Me: Good day, Potter.

So you see, we can be perfectly civil. Also, his hair was an atrocity. She is terrible for him, obviously, since she cannot even teach him proper grooming. I will be doing him a favour. Very soon.

Love and hugs,

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant)

PS (I have enclosed some croissants. Please do not eat the one with the white chocolate swirls, that one is special and is reserved for your little friend. A peace offering from me to him. Seriously, don't eat it.)

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**Day 205**

Pansy,

If you read the papers in the next week or so and see any reference to a certain Saviour's certain girlfriend being injured or maimed or perhaps even killed, I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I will be in Switzerland next week and shall provide receipts and witnesses to prove it.

In fact, I think I will buy you some Swiss chocolate while I am there.

Love,

Draco

PS (I did not appreciate the Howler you sent me and I resent the implication that I might have poisoned the croissant meant for your asinine boytoy-thing person. I shall have words with the baker, although you might consider that your friend simply inspires universal dislike. I can't be the only one looking forward to his horrific, grisly demise.)

PPS (You may have noticed my lack of title - this is for your own safety. If you have any other letters bearing that name, you might burn them.)

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**Day 210**

Dearest Pansy,

I am sorry for turning up unexpectedly at your house yesterday and I apologize for hexing Newton or Nermal or whatever his name is. He startled me. I assure you the swelling will only linger a few weeks and the itching will diminish sometime thereafter. I was distraught and do not appreciate you shrieking and throwing me out.

In the event that you have calmed down and are more receptive to hearing my plight, I must tell you that once again Potter has saved the day. I begin to believe he adds Felix Felicis to his daily coffee. (Note to self: brew some of that at once.)

Apparently (and I knew nothing about this, mind you-Switzerland, remember) the ginger creature-de-amour of the Chosen One was nearly cursed whilst in the changing room of the Holyhead Harpies. Some malfeasant (heh) person placed a hex on her boots and she was about to step into them when none other than bloody Captain Potter turned up (no doubt to give her a revolting good luck snog or some other disgustingly romantic token) and decided to polish her boots for her. Potter decided to _polish her boots_. Isn't that just my terrible fucking luck the sweetest gesture in all the land? I could gag on it. In fact, I did. Several times.

Of course the boot-polishing spell reacted badly with the hex placed upon the boots and caused a bit of an explosion. Potter ended up in St Mungo's (he's fine, of course) and the ginger bint had her eyebrows and most of her hair burnt off in the backlash (remind me to send you the photos - they are brilliant) but other than that she is right as rain and immediately rushed off to comfort dear Potter.

You probably know all of this if you've read the Prophet. I am only recapping because it was quite a shock to read about it when I returned from Switzerland. Where I was at the time of the incident.

Much love,

Draco (recently returned from Switzerland)

PS (Postcards and chocolate enclosed.)

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**Day 215**

Pansy darling!

I realise you have not heard from me in some time. You were probably worried sick, you poor thing. Your frantic messages asking my whereabouts must have been waylaid by the Ministry. I have spent the past several days being repeatedly grilled by their inept Aurors. For some reason they were determined that I was behind the dastardly plot to hex Ginevra Weasley. The nerve. Merlin, if you hurt their precious Saviour one time they will stop at nothing to falsely accuse and assign guilt. So rude.

Regardless, due to my sterling alibi and their pitiful lack of evidence, they were forced to release me or face my mother's wrath. Even they are not stupid enough to risk that.

My time in the Ministry cell block was put to good use, however. I have concocted a brilliant new plan. I shall give you no details, of course, because it's quite likely the Auror Division is illegally seizing and examining my mail (Hello, Potter!) but the fact remains that it is brilliant even by my excellent standards.

Draco (please insert my usual title as I may not due to aforementioned mail seizure)

PS (I was sorry to hear about your fiancé's dreadful accident. I do hope his testicles return to normal size eventually so that you may return them to your handbag where they belong. Once again, I had nothing to do with it, as I was unhappily incarcerated at the time of his run-in with a Ball-Balloon Hex.)

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**Day 217**

Pansy,

The oddest thing happened to me today. I was innocently shopping in Diagon Alley and bumped into our old friend and wizarding icon, Harry Potter. He demanded to know what I was "up to" (I have noticed he makes that request frequently, the poor, paranoid thing, although far less often since the return of the ginger creature) and I admitted to him that I was shopping for a treat for a certain _special someone_.

Potter seemed confused (of course, confusion is his natural state, really) and he asked me what special someone. I replied that wouldn't he like to know and then I smirked and added that my 'special someone' liked Quidditch, long walks in the rain, snuggling adorable crup puppies and preferred chocolate martinis to champagne.

Potter said she sounds like my perfect match. I corrected him.

Me: He.

Potter: He what?

Me: My special someone is a he, Potter, honestly, did you pay no attention in school?

Potter: I thought you and Pansy Parkinson were an item.

Me: (I will not bore you with my reaction to that, although you may imagine it involved long and rollicking laughter, by which I meant no offense, darling, but you understand.)

Potter: ?

Me: I am gay, Potter, you oblivious imbecile.

Potter: (insert rather adorable stammering)

Me: By all accounts you are male, so tell me. Would you prefer a gift of decadent chocolate truffles laced with flavoured liqueur or a pair of butter-soft leather trousers?

Potter: (more stammering and he doesn't look quite as attractive when his face is that shade of red but isn't it amusing) I… I'm sure I don't know, Malfoy.

Me: Surely you have an opinion. Chocolate to be melted and then drawn slowly over your lover's body to be licked off, or sexy leather trousers to be slowly peeled off, inch by inch prior to mind-blowing fellatio? Which. Do you. Prefer?

Potter: …chocolate? (At this point his voice sounded quite unlike his normal dulcet tones and then he squeaked out that he had a very pressing appointment and he fled like a flock of dementors was howling at his heels. I fear he may be a bit of a prude.)

I would have told you all of this in person, but your annoying "restraining order" and anti-Draco wards makes that impossible. I am still a bit miffed that you continually choose that oaf over me, but I still adore you and can only hope you return to your senses one day.

Love and kisses,

Draco (Doctor You-Know -Who But Not That One)

PS (Mr Wiggles says hi.)

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**Day 218**

Dear Pansy,

Potter did not seem to enjoy my gift of chocolate, judging by his angry note. So fickle.

Love,

Draco

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**Day 219**

Dear Pansy,

Potter also rejected the leather trousers. His accompanying note seemed more confused than angry this time. Operation WP continues apace.

Love,

Draco

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**Day 220**

Dear Pansy,

The roses and singing telegram might have been a bit much, judging by Potter's rude "STOP SENDING ME GIFTS!" message. Perhaps I should have sent them to him at the Ministry rather than the restaurant where he was having dinner with the Weaselette. Did you see the photos in the Prophet? Her enraged face is priceless. I have framed one and placed it on my desk to admire.

Love,

Draco

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**Day 222**

Dear Pansy,

I believe Potter is softening. I ran into him at St Mungo's whilst I was checking on Goyle (do not worry, it was a minor Splinch and he's been forbidden to partake of goblin ale ever again). Potter was in for yet another Auror-related injury, I assume. (He was rubbing his shoulder, although I did not have a chance to ask him about it - he could not have been in too much pain judging by the strength with which he shoved me up against the wall of the lift. I managed to insinuate my leg between his during the manoeuvre and have to admit I have high hopes for the future. Let me just say that Potter's impressive bulge is not a bundle of socks, as Weasley's is rumoured to be. But I digress.)

Potter demanded to know if I had gone beyond sending ridiculous gifts and progressed to actual stalking. "You wish," I replied and then I kissed him.

DID YOU HEAR THAT, PANSY? I KISSED HARRY POTTER.

I would wax eloquent about how rapturous it was, but frankly it was over far too quickly for me to describe. The bastard pulled away and punched me in the stomach. Then the doors opened and he ran off, the bloody coward. Luckily I was at St Mungo's and complained bitterly to Healer Draven. She gave me a potion.

Despite this minor setback, I am feeling hopeful. Regardless of the cruel blow he bestowed up me, I saw something in Potter's eyes before he escaped. Methinks the hero is not entirely uninterested.

Yours,

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant - I think the Ministry has got bored with reading my notes and if I am wrong and they intercept this one, well, I am coming for you, Potter. And yes, you may accept that as innuendo.)

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**Day 223**

_Pans_

_ help_

_ me_

_D_

_._

**Day 233**

Dear Pansy,

Thank you for ignoring your petty issues with me and coming to my rescue. I might have died if you hadn't pulled me from the rubble. I knew the girl Weasel was vindictive, but I never expected her to strike at me directly. Apparently she blamed me for Potter breaking up with her. As if. (Well, I am hopeful on that front, but Potter has not confirmed it. He has visited me several time and even apologized. His contrite little face is so adorable I would pinch his cheeks if it didn't hurt to lift my arms. I told him I would accept his apology only if he delivered it whilst wearing the leather trousers. His blush is even more adorable. But I digress.)

The Weaselette was arrested for attacking me. She was subsequently released, of course. I am certain they gave her a tap on the wrist thanks to Potter's influence, but she seems to have fallen from Potter's favour, judging by the shouting match I overheard outside my room last night.

I hope they will allow me to return home soon. I am worried about Mr Wiggles. My cracked ribs have fully healed, but the healers are still concerned about my head wound. Apparently I have been declaring my fierce and devoted love for Potter in my delirium. I would be more amused by this if Potter hadn't taken to holding my hand while sitting at my bedside.

I am feeling somewhat faint at the moment. I think I shall send for him. More later.

Love,

Draco

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**Day 235**

Dear Pansy,

Potter apologized to me again today. And he was wearing the leather trousers. ! Sorry if this is illegible and rushed, but Potter offered to escort me home and is currently sitting across the room waiting for me to finish this note.

He is staring at me quite intently, Pansy. I must look into the side effects of the potions I have been taking, because I am feeling curiously anxious and my heartbeat feels abnormal.

Now he has set his drink aside. IhavetogoPansybyeLoveDraco

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**Day 245**

Dearest Pansy,

All is well. I know that I sent you a previous missive stating the same when all was very much not well, but this time you may take me at my word.

I know it will surprised you, but I am giving up my grand plan to join the Eaters of Death. They are a pack of hopelessly disorganized buffoons, honestly, or they would have accepted my application immediately and invited me to turn their pathetic organization into something worthwhile. Too late now. Potter has shown me the error of my ways and soon he shall ferret out (shut up) the rabble and mete out justice, as he does.

Why does this not upset me, you ask? Why does the destruction of my life goal not cause me torment and gnashing of teeth? Possibly because I, Draco Malfoy, have the Saviour of All Wizardom in my bed. (And before you ask, no I did not drug him or tie him up, he is here of his own free will.) Say something to Pansy, Potter.

** _Pansy, I still dislike you for trying to sell me to Voldemort during the war. But thanks for rescuing Draco. ~HP_ **

Isn't he sweet? One day he will most likely completely forgive you. Gryffindors, you know. Anyway, Potter and I have plans for this weekend. I thought about dropping in to see you, but seeing how Potter despises you and I loathe Reginald, that probably isn't the best idea. I suppose we'll just stay in bed and have amazing, incredible, brilliant sex.

Remind me to tell you about Potter's skills. Rumour has it the Prophet is planning to change his moniker from The Boy Who Lived to The Boy Who

** _Draco is finished writing for the night. I'm sure he will talk to you later. ~HP_ **

So forceful. One would think he's an Auror or something. Oh, now that's the proper way to get me to put the quill down, Potter. Bright boy. Bloody hell, that mouth of yours.

Goodnight, Pans!

Love,

Draco (Doctor Malfeasant)

PS (Sorry, I refuse to give up my title, especially considering the success of Operation Woo Potter.) Oh, Salazar, he is….

** _PPS (Draco asked me to tell you that Mr Wiggles is fine. Draco is otherwise occupied at the moment or he would tell you himself. I'm sure you don't want details, but his mouth is much prettier than when he's telling me what a prat I am. ~HP)_ **

** _~fin~_**


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